


A Sunnydale Christmas Carol

by MissWitch



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 23:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4456670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWitch/pseuds/MissWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Buffy version of the Charles Dickens classic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kendra's Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Everything up to and including season 6 is fair game in this story

Kendra was dead, that much was certain. She’d been dead four years now. Her throat had been slit by Drucilla and she’d bled to death. So there was no doubt about it, Kendra was absolutely, positively dead.

Buffy knew Kendra was dead. She, herself, had found Kendra’s body on the library floor. Buffy had been accused of and nearly arrested for her death. The evidence of Kendra’s death had been quite clear and unmistakable. Therefore, if nothing else, it must be understood by the reader that Kendra was well and truly dead.

A cold snap had fallen over Sunnydale for Christmas Eve, the temperatures falling into the realm of near freezing. It had happened once before, several years ago, but most residents ignored it. When the strange happened, the best defense was to pretend it was normal.

It was still relatively early, but the sun hadn’t shown itself all day, so it was quite dark out. Lights up and down the street were blazing, trying to make a dent in the unrelenting grayness.

Buffy Summers stood in the Doublemeat Palace, staring out the window at the bundled up people walking outside. They were laughing and holding hands, leading happy, normal (well, normal for Sunnydale) lives, carrying brightly colored packages in their arms.

Inside, the restaurant was decorated in festive Christmas cheer. Green and red adorned every available surface and some hardy soul had spray-painted fake snow on the plate glass windows.

"Merry Christmas, Buffy!" Dawn called out as she entered the restaurant. Buffy rolled her eyes as she faced her sister.

"Bah humbug," she muttered. Dawn looked started.

"Well, aren’t we all Scrooge-like?" she said. Buffy looked around the empty restaurant.

"What there to be all Christmassy about?" Buffy demanded to know. "All it means is I’m going to be another year older, more in debt, and still working this crappy job with no future," she said bitterly. "If I could, I’d bitch-slap every idiot who wished me a Merry Christmas."

"C’mon Buffy, it’s Christmas," Dawn entreated. "A time when people band together with feelings of love and good will." Buffy rolled her eyes, but Dawn persisted. "They do. It’s a time of forgiving and for opening up your heart to one another." Buffy glared.

"What exactly is it you want?" she demanded. Dawn smiled.

"I’m supposed to remind you that we’re having Christmas at Xander’s tomorrow." Buffy snatched up a rag and started cleaning empty tables.

"I’m working," she said. Dawn looked horrified.

"You’re working on Christmas Day?" she asked in disbelief. "You’re kidding, right?" Buffy shook her head, scrubbing down a table with unnecessary force.

"We need the money, Dawn," Buffy snapped. "Especially if you don’t me to have to take back your presents." Dawn threw up her hands in defeat.

"Fine. Just so you know, I’m going over to Janice’s tonight. Her parents invited me over for their Christmas party," Buffy nodded curtly.

"Whatever. Make sure you’re not out wandering around after dark. Vampires aren’t big on Christmas charity," Buffy remarked sarcastically as Dawn left. Dawn rolled her eyes at Buffy, smiled cheekily and sang out:

"Merry Christmas!" before letting the door swing shut behind her.

It grew darker and colder as the afternoon passed into night until finally it was time to leave. Buffy, her hands red from washing greasy dishes, hugged her coat around her tightly as she left the store.

She made a cursory tour of the cemeteries, but despite what she’d told Dawn, vampire activity was down. Even they were caught up in the Christmas spirit. Buffy kept her head down as she strode to her house.

Dawn and the Scoobies had decorated, something Buffy had been unable to work up any enthusiasm for. She’d gone to work one day and when she’d gotten home, lights had been hung and decorations put up.

On the front door was a wreath of pine and holly with an angel sitting in the middle. There was nothing spectacular about it. It had been Joyce’s and she’d hung it on the front door for every Christmas Buffy could remember.

Looking up as she unlocked the door, Buffy jumped back in shock and cried out in surprise. Because instead of the angel’s face she saw, it was Kendra’s instead.

Buffy had not thought of Kendra since that fateful day in the library. And yet, there her face was, staring back at her. Then, as quickly as it appeared, Kendra’s face faded, and it was an angel once again.

"Ok, that was just weird," Buffy said, as she cautiously opened the door and looked inside. The house was as it always was, albeit cold and dark. "Must have been my imagination," Buffy muttered, locking the door behind her. Rattling the door, Buffy doubled checked the locks.

Satisfied that it was secured, Buffy shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it onto the back of the chair. Turning on some lights, she scurried up the stairs into her room and changed into her yummy sushi pajamas. Pulling her robe over her pajamas, Buffy trundled back down to the living room. She carried her fast food bag to the coffee table, settled onto the couch, and turned the TV on with the remote.

Buffy idly flipped channels as she ate the greasy hamburger. She barely tasted the food as she plowed through it. It was merely fuel for her body, like gasoline in a car.

Without warning, the lights flickered as the power went out. Sighing, Buffy rummaged through the kitchen for matches. She lit the candles that sat around the room, giving it an eerie glow. Blowing out the match, Buffy tossed it in the ashtray they kept around for Spike.

As she turned back toward the middle of the room, Buffy found herself face to face with a semi-transparent Kendra.

Startled, Buffy gave a small scream and jumped onto the couch. Kendra looked much as Buffy remembered her, despite being slightly see-through. Kendra’s long dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she was wearing a crop top with baggy khakis. Around her was a silver chain that wound around her waist and over her shoulders. Attached to it were knifes, stakes, swords and weapons of all kinds, wrought of heavy iron.

Buffy blinked in disbelief.

"Kendra? Is that you?" she whispered, climbing slowly from the couch. The apparition stood with its transparent hands on its transparent hips.

"Who do you t’ink it is?" it asked sarcastically. Buffy crept closer and tried to touch it. Her hand slid effortlessly through the specter.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, pulling her hand back. "What do you want?" The spirit cocked her head.

"What I want, Buffy," Kendra said, "is to spare you my fate." Buffy snorted and settled herself on the couch. She crossed her legs Indian style.

"I’ve already suffered your fate." Buffy said. "Been dead, done that." Kendra’s ghost waved away her statement.

"Buffy," she said, crossing her arms. "I’m not talking about death. Death is somet’ing we all face. I’m talking of the path you’ve chosen to take since you returned from death."

"Kendra, you’re not making any sense."

"Look at me, Buffy. I wear the chains I forged in life." Kendra gestured to the chains. "I thought of nothing but the battle. I saved lives but not souls." Buffy shrugged.

"That’s our job, Kendra. We slay vampires and demons."

"No, our job is to make the lives of others better, through human kindness," Kendra corrected. She held up the iron chain. "You’re making a chain of your own, Buffy. One I only pray you’ll be able to throw off before it’s too late."

"Point, Kendra, what’s the point?" Buffy asked wearily. The last thing she wanted to deal with was a lecture about her life. Kendra sighed.

"Fine," she said "You will be visited by three spirits tonight. The first will arrive…"

"At 1 am, the second at 2, the third at 3," Buffy finished, dismissing Kendra. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. This is the weirdest dream I ever had," she muttered to herself. Kendra drew herself up.

"’Dis is no dream, Buffy," the spirit roared. Buffy covered her ears to protect them. "Without these spirits, you will never find your way back to heaven," Kendra predicted. "This is your only chance to spare yourself from my fate."

As she spoke, Kendra began to fade from sight, her voice fading with her.

"Watch for the spirits." was the last Buffy heard before Kendra disappeared entirely.

Blinking, Buffy stared in shock at the spot where Kendra had stood moments before. The lights returned in a sudden blaze of brightness.

"No more Doublemeat burgers," she swore, rubbing her eyes. Buffy gathered up the remnants of the burger and crumpled it in the bag. "That was just bizarre," she mumbled, tossing the bag into the trash.

Buffy climbed the stairs, her brain still trying to explain what she’d just seen. She crawled into bed, robe and all. Exhausted, either from her long shift, the late hour or her visit from Kendra, Buffy fell immediately asleep.


	2. The Ghost of Christmas Past

Buffy awoke with a start, sitting up in bed. Outside it was still dark, and she looked over at the clock on the nightstand. The red numbers read 12:00. Buffy gaped at the clock.

[Twelve o’clock?] she thought. [That’s not possible. I didn’t get off work until 1 am. It had to have been at least 2 when I went to bed…] Climbing out of bed, Buffy went to the window to stare out at the darkness, wondering if she’d accidentally slept until noon. If that was the case, she was late for work, and galvanized by the sudden surge of adrenalin through her body, Buffy turned back toward the room.

"What the…?" she started. The red numbers of the clock began to change in rapid succession. Buffy watched as the quarter hour passed, then the half hour, then three quarters of the hour. Finally, the clock flipped to 1:00.

"Well, no ghosts," Buffy said looking around with satisfaction. She started to crawl back into bed when the alarm on the clock started to buzz loudly.

Bright light suddenly illuminated the room. Buffy covered her eyes until the glow faded. When she was finally able to uncover them, Buffy gasped in surprise at what she saw.

"Ms. Calendar?" Buffy asked in disbelief. In front of her stood Jenny Calendar, much as Buffy remembered her. She was dressed completely in white, with sprigs of holly tucked in her dark, upswept hair.

"Relax, Buffy," Ms. Calendar said. "I’m not going to hurt you."

"You’re the first spirit?" Buffy asked. Ms. Calendar nodded, moving closer.

"I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past," she said. Buffy shook her head in disbelief.

"You can’t be." Buffy insisted. "That’s just a story."

"Have you learned nothing in your years as the Slayer?" Ms. Calendar asked in disgust. "How many ‘stories’ have turned out to be fact?" she pointed out. Buffy shrugged, but couldn’t argue against her logic. Ms. Calendar reached out and grabbed Buffy’s hand.

"It’s time to go," she said. Buffy tried to pull away, but the moment Ms. Calendar had touched her, Buffy’s bedroom had disappeared, replaced by a bustling street.

Buffy looked up and down the street in amazement.

"I know where we are," she said in awe. Buffy and Ms. Calendar walked up the sidewalk. "There’s the playground where Celia and I used to play," she pointed out. "There’s my old elementary school," Buffy said excitedly.

"I take it you’re familiar with this place," Jenny said drolly.

"Familiar? Of course I am. This is where I grew up. I know it backwards and forwards," Buffy insisted. Ms. Calendar gestured for Buffy to take the lead.

As they walked up the street, children ran around them, joyous in their Christmas cheer. Buffy knew them and pointed each out to Ms. Calendar. School had been let out for the holidays, and every child was giddy with the prospect of 10 days without school.

"But where are you?" Ms. Calendar asked, looking around. "Why aren’t you out playing with the rest of them?" She looked over toward a two-story house. "Ah, there you are."

Magically, both women were transported inside the house. Buffy looked around in wonder, taking in the sights of her childhood.

"Save me, Supergirl, save me!" a childish voice called out. Buffy whipped around toward the voice.

"Celia?" she whispered, hardly believing what she saw. But, lo and behold, there was Celia, pretending to be buried beneath a mountain of cushions. Suddenly, the child version of herself, wearing a blanket as a cape appeared in the doorway.

"Fear not, I’ll save you!" the young Buffy declared, hands on hips superhero style. The present day Buffy clapped her hands together and laughed.

"This was our favorite game," she told Jenny. "Celia would pretend to be a damsel in distress and I’d rush to her rescue," Buffy explained as the younger version of herself tossed the cushions off her cousin.

"Even as a child, you couldn’t escape your destiny," Ms. Calendar commented, watching the two girls play.

"It looks that way," Buffy muttered.

"But your destiny didn’t save her, did it?" the spirit asked. Buffy shook her head, eyes filling with tears.

"She was killed by a demon the next year," she murmured.

"Let’s see another Christmas," Jenny decided, and the scene around them faded into another. They remained in Buffy’s childhood home, different furniture and school pictures of Buffy and Dawn marked the passage of time.

"Do you ever even listen to me, Hank?" Buffy spun wildly as her mother walked to the room, trailing after her father. "Buffy quit the cheerleading squad and she’s getting into more and more trouble at school." Never stopping, Hank slid his arms into his sports coat.

"Then ground her or something," he suggested. Joyce threw up her hands in exasperation.

"She’s been grounded, it’s done no good," she told him. Hank turned.

"I don’t know what you want me to do," he told her. "I have to go on a business trip, and I’ll be back on Friday." Hank said, kissing her on the cheek.

"What? But today’s Christmas?" Joyce said in horror. Hank shrugged.

"Sorry, hon," he said, "Duty calls."

"Duty, my ass," Buffy said to Jenny, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "He spent the holiday with his secretary in Monterey."

"Did they fight a lot?" Jenny asked, as young versions of Buffy and Dawn entered the room from where they were hiding in the hallway. They both had shell-shocked expressions on their faces.

"More after I was called as the Slayer," Buffy said, watching her younger self wipe away tears. Mom filed for divorce and we moved to Sunnydale right after this." Buffy and Jenny watched as the young Summers girls listened to their parents continuing to argue in the next room. "Take me home, Ms. Calendar. This is just too depressing."

"One more Christmas," Jenny said, the house fading away.

Buffy found herself on top of a hill. She spun around in confusion.

"Where are we?" she asked. The spirit smiled.

"Back where we started," she told Buffy. "Sunnydale." Buffy continued to search the area for anything familiar.

"I don’t know where this is," she said. Jenny pointed across the hill at a motionless figure.

"You will."

"Angel," Buffy said in disbelief. She darted across the hill, her slippered feet making no sound on the dead grass. Jenny strode after her, arriving mere seconds after Buffy came to a halt next to Angel’s brooding form.

"He’s waiting for the sun to rise," Buffy told Ms. Calendar. "The First had been tormenting him with memories and hallucinations for days." Buffy looked over her shoulder at Jenny. "It took your form actually."

"Yes, I wasn’t particularly thrilled about that," Jenny said, annoyance tingeing her voice. Both watched as seventeen year old Buffy came running up to Angel, and they began to argue.

"I was so afraid he was going to die," Buffy told Ms. Calendar. "I couldn’t imagine life going on without him." Snow began to fall around them. Buffy looked around her. "This was one of the best Christmases ever," she told Ms. Calendar as Angel and her younger self walked off hand in hand, both watching the snow in amazement.

"Was it?" Jenny asked with an arched eyebrow. "Let’s see it from another point of view."

The hill faded from view and Buffy found herself in Xander’s backyard.

"Why is he sleeping on the ground?" she asked Ms. Calendar, staring at his still form on the earth.

"His family has been fighting all day," Jenny told her. "This was his only escape." Buffy watched the snow accumulate on the sleeping bag. Xander rubbed his face in his sleep and pulled the sleeping bag closed over his head.

"Why didn’t he call one of us?" Buffy asked as Xander, awake from the sudden shock of snow from the sleeping bag on his face, sat up in wonder.

"Who should he have called Buffy?" Ms. Calendar asked, a note of accusation in her voice. "You? You were so busy being worried about your precious Angel, you barely noticed the world around you."

Suddenly, Buffy found herself in the middle of Giles’ apartment. Giles stood by the window, looking out at the snow.

"For example," Ms. Calendar said, gesturing at Giles. "did you know that he spent the entire day waiting for you to check in?" Shaking her head, Buffy watched as Giles moved from the window and poured himself a glass of Scotch.

"He looks tired," she murmured as Giles walked over to his small Christmas tree. He picked up a brightly wrapped package, studied it for a moment before moving back to the window.

"Of course he looks tired," Ms. Calendar said sharply. "He stays up night after night, waiting for you to let him know you’re ok. You couldn’t even spare him five minutes on Christmas day so he could give you your gift." Jenny gestured at the bright package Giles still held. "He waited and waited, yet you never showed up."

Buffy’s head dropped in shame. Watching Giles wait for her stirred feelings in her chest that she couldn’t describe.

"I want to go home," Buffy said, plaintively. "Please, show me no more." Jenny nodded and snapped her fingers.

Buffy suddenly found herself alone in her bedroom. Jenny Calendar was nowhere to be seen. Exhausted, Buffy collapsed on her bed and was instantly asleep.


	3. The Ghost of Christmas Present

Buffy awoke with a start. The room around her was dark as she sat up in bed. A glance at the clock revealed that is was 1:59 am. [Just one minute more.] she thought as she stared at the red glow. The time seemed to crawl by until the numbers changed.

"Two am," Buffy said, looking around the room. She was almost disappointed when nothing happened. Buffy wasn’t sure what she expected, but absolutely nothing hadn’t been it. "Guess it’s back to bed then," she murmured, laying back down on the mattress. Buffy punched her pillow a few times to plump it up before resting her head on it. Her eyelids had just drifted closed when they snapped back open.

A bright light once again illuminated her room. It wasn’t as blinding as it had been the first time because the source wasn’t in her room. Whatever was glowing brightly was outside her bedroom. Buffy could see the light coming in through the crack under the door.

Slowly, she threw back the covers and padded toward the door. The light began to fade with each step closer she took. By the time Buffy reached the door, there was nothing but a soft glow streaming in. Hesitantly, she let her hand rest on the doorknob, unsure if she should open the door or not.

"Buffy." Unable to believe her ears, Buffy’s entire body stiffened with shock. Slowly, she turned the doorknob and peered into the hallway. The glow was coming from the living room downstairs. Buffy crept down the stairs, her steps slowing as the room came into view.

It was definitely her living room, but it had undergone a transformation that Dawn could only have hoped to achieve with her decorations. Garlands of holly were hung from the ceiling and the walls were covered in ivy. Mistletoe hung in every doorway.

There was a huge table laid out before Buffy. It was laden with a turkey and goose, and there was a ham hidden amongst the dishes. A heaping bowl of potatoes vied for space with all different types of pies. There were vegetable dishes and fruit bowls crammed in every available space.

"It’s ok, Buffy. Come closer," a soft female voice beckoned.

"Mom?" Buffy asked, her bottom lip trembling. Buffy’s eyes filled with tears as she stared at her mother.

Joyce Summers was dressing in a simple green velvet dress, white fur lining the collar and cuffs. A holly wreath rested on top of her head, and her feet were bare. Her face, however, was joyful, as if she was bursting with good cheer.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," she told Buffy. Buffy rushed forward and found herself enveloped in the spirit’s embrace.

"I miss you, Mom," Buffy said, her voice muffled. Joyce kissed the top of her head.

"I know, baby," she said. "But that is not why I’m here." Buffy pulled away.

"Why are you here then?" she asked suspiciously. Joyce grinned.

"Why, to show you all that you’re missing," she said, holding Buffy tightly by the hand. Suddenly, while Buffy and Mrs. Summers were standing perfectly still, the room and everything around it zipped away at an amazing speed.

Buffy caught glimpses of people moving through the streets, some finishing last minute shopping, some caroling, some simply enjoying the spirit of the evening.

"But it’s two am," Buffy pointed out, as she watched some shoppers zip by.

"It’s not two am everywhere," Joyce informed her. She smiled. "Ah, here we are." Their surroundings came to a sudden halt. Buffy’s stomach gave a slight lurch, despite the fact she’d hadn’t been moving.

Buffy looked around the unfamiliar and rather shabby surroundings in confusion, surprised to find Willow sitting on a dilapidated couch.

"Merry Christmas, sweetie." Tara swooped into the living room carrying a small turkey on a platter.

"It looks wonderful!" Willow exclaimed as she jumped up and took it from her. Willow set the platter on the table and helped Tara carry in the rest of the dinner.

"It’s so small," Buffy said of the turkey. Joyce watched the two young women setting the table with affection.

 

"What did you expect?" she inquired of her daughter. "Tara is going to school full time with no financial support from her family. Now that she’s moved out of the house, she’s had to pay for an apartment." Mrs. Summers gestured around the shabby apartment. "This is all that she can afford."

"But, she’s so cheerful," Buffy said about Tara, who was singing softly as she served up the meal. Joyce chuckled merrily.

"Of course she is," Mrs. Summers told Buffy. "Because she knows that Christmas isn’t about what you don’t have, it’s about being thankful for what you do have." They stood a moment longer, watching the lovers sit and eat. Buffy couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Willow look so happy. "Christmas is about being with the people you love, and the people who love you," Joyce whispered in her daughter’s ear. Some inexplicable emotion moved inside Buffy’s chest.

"At least she has a reason to celebrate," Buffy said, feeling sorry for herself. Joyce threw her hands up in exasperation.

"Time to move on then," she declared.

As suddenly as it had stopped, Tara’s small apartment was whisked away again. Almost immediately, they halted again.

"So what are you doing for Christmas?" a small blonde asked. Buffy spun around in confusion, trying to figure out who she was speaking to.

"I’m going over to a friend’s house for dinner," Dawn replied, casually. She popped an olive from her plate into her mouth.

"Is your sister taking you?" the blonde asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"That’s Janice," Buffy told her mother. "I’m not sure if I like her, she and Dawn have a habit of getting into trouble." Joyce just smiled and motioned for Buffy to listen to the conversation. Dawn was shaking her head.

"No, she has to work," she told Janice. Janice looked at Dawn in disbelief.

"Nuh uh," she said. Dawn nodded, leaning closer.

"She actually said ‘Bah humbug’ to me," Dawn laughed. "Can you believe it?"

"She didn’t," Janice disagreed. Dawn nodded solemnly.

"She did, and then said she’d like to bitch-slap everyone who said merry Christmas to her." Dawn and Janice laughed heartily at this.

Horrified, Buffy stalked right up to her sister.

"You are in so much trouble when you get home," she growled at Dawn. Mrs. Summers laughed.

"Dawn can’t hear you," she pointed out. Buffy looked at her mother in shock.

"Do you hear the things she’s saying about me?" she demanded, stomping her foot childishly.

"Are they untrue?" Joyce asked. Buffy had the grace to blush.

"Um, no," she admitted. "They’re true." Reaching out, Joyce patted Buffy’s cheek.

"Just listen," she ordered softly. Buffy turned her attention back to her sister.

"I’m kinda glad she didn’t come tonight," Janice was saying. "Your sister is so bizarre." Miffed, Buffy crossed her arms over her chest.

"I definitely don’t like her," she muttered angrily. Dawn, who was chewing, shook her hand in disagreement at Janice.

"You don’t understand," Dawn told her. "My sister’s had a rough life. In a way, I totally understand why she’s all Scrooge-like. Especially this year. But I love her, and I’ll keep risking life and limb by wishing her a merry Christmas."

Tears pricked at Buffy’s eyes, and she tried to wipe them away without her mother noticing. Joyce pulled a handkerchief from her belt and handed it to Buffy. Dawn picked up her glass of eggnog.

"Here’s to my sister, Buffy. For all her bluster, I know she loves me," Dawn motioned for Janice to pick up her glass, which she reluctantly did so.

"To Buffy," Janice echoed.

"See, you are loved," Mrs. Summers pointed out. Buffy shrugged as she dabbed at her eyes.

"Dawn has to, she’s related," she said sulkily. Joyce gave a secret smile and took Buffy’s hand.

"One more stop then."

Janice’s house suddenly disappeared, and Buffy once again caught glimpses of people celebrating.

"Was that Riley?" she demanded as she passed some solders in the jungle singing carols. Joyce nodded but merely said,

"No time to stop."

The scenery continued to whip by, and Buffy soon made herself nauseous trying to see everything as it passed. Finally, the landscape shuddered to a stop.

"Please, no more of that," Buffy begged. Her coloring was tinged a faint green. Mrs. Summers rubbed her back.

"This is the last stop," she assured her daughter. Buffy looked around her as her stomach began to steady. She was standing outside a small building. Although Buffy couldn’t feel it, it must have been very cold where ever they were, because snow was piled in the street and falling lazily around them.

Puzzled, Buffy turned toward her mother, but Joyce simply pointed at the window. Using her robe, Buffy brushed away the snow to peer inside. She could see some people bustling into their coats and could hear their cheerful voices, although she couldn’t make out what they were saying. The apparent owner of the home had his back to her as he hugged his guests as they departed. The door opened and their cheerful voices floated out.

"We’ll see you tomorrow then, Rupert?" a woman with an English accent asked. Buffy snapped to full attention. The man she was talking to turned to face the window as he answered.

"Yes, Grace, I’ll be there," he assured her. Buffy gawked.

 

"Giles?" she breathed excitedly. She turned to her mother. "Mom, it’s Giles. Can we go in?" Before Joyce could answer, Buffy darted through the open door. She stood next to Giles, studying him as he bid farewell to his friends. "He still looks tired," she commented to her mother. Buffy reached out to touch his face, but her hand passed right through him.

"We’re mere shadows, Buffy," Joyce told her, even though she knew Buffy wasn’t listening.

In fact, Buffy was following Giles around his apartment like a lost puppy. She followed him into the kitchen and watched him make tea. Just watching him perform the familiar task soothed her jangled nerves.

"I miss you, Giles," she told him softly. Buffy trailed him back to the living room, where Giles set his mug on the coffee table and pick up a stack of mail. As he sorted through the mail, Giles reached over and pressed the play button on his answering machine. Buffy felt her mother’s hands on her shoulders.

"This is the fifth time he’s listened to this message," Joyce told her. From the machine flowed the strains of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" being sung very badly. Buffy smiled, realizing it was the Scoobies singing. After they finished singing, each one, from Dawn to Anya wished Giles a merry Christmas.

"How come you weren’t a part of that call?" Joyce asked. Buffy stared as Giles, smiling sadly, picked up a picture sitting on the lamp table. It was one of her, Willow and Xander.

"Dawn asked me, but I was still so mad at him for leaving," Buffy said softly, as Giles traced her face in the picture with his finger. "It seems so stupid now," she admitted, her heart quietly breaking. Buffy wondered how she could’ve been so selfish and cold hearted.

"I agree," Joyce said as Giles stood and walked towards his Christmas tree. It was much bigger than the one he’d had in his apartment in Sunnydale. "You hurt him time and time again, and yet…" her words trailed off as Giles knelt beneath the tree and picked up a small wrapped box. Looking over his shoulder, Buffy could read the tag he’d attached to it.

To my dearest Buffy,

Merry Christmas.

My love always,

Giles

"And yet, he’s always thinking of you," Joyce finished. Buffy sniffled back a sob. Joyce held out her hand. "It’s time for me to go." she told Buffy. Buffy turned and was horrified to find that her mother seemed to be ageing before her eyes. "My time grows short."

The clock on Giles’ mantel began to strike the hour.

"Must you go?" Buffy asked, clinging to her mother’s hand. Joyce nodded.

Bong! The clock struck one.

"I only had this time," Mrs. Summers said.

Bong! The clock struck two.

Buffy looked around in a panic. Giles’ home had begun to fade away, as did her mother.

"No!"

Bong! The clock struck three, and Buffy found herself suddenly surrounded by a thick fog. Spinning around, Buffy couldn’t help but remember what Kendra had said about there being three spirits.

Through the tendrils of the fog, she could see a figure moving stealthily toward her. Her spider sense tingling, Buffy reflexively checked all her pockets for a stake. Finding none, she turned, looking for a place to hide. She found nothing but fog.

Turning back, Buffy screamed as she found herself face to face with the third spirit.


	4. The Ghost of Christmas Future

Screaming, Buffy dropped to her knees as the third spirit stood over her. It was dressed in rags and bits of fabric. Its dark hair was matted and on its face, the dark skin was painted with a primitive design.

The spirit reached down, and grabbing Buffy’s robe by the neck, roughly pulled Buffy to her feet. Buffy found herself face to face with the First Slayer.

"You’re the spirit of Christmas Yet to Come?" Buffy asked in disbelief as she pulled herself together from her surprise. "So, you’re going to show me what will happen, but hasn’t happened yet." It was more of a statement than a question. The First Slayer growled and nodded, pointing onward with a battle-scarred hand. The mere sight of the spirit filled Buffy with dread, as if nothing good was to come of their time spent together.

"You’re sure?" Buffy questioned. The First Slayer gave a snarl that had Buffy throwing up her hands defensively. "Ok, ok, I was just checking."

Buffy stared in the direction that the Slayer pointed. She could see nothing but fog and shadows. Suddenly, Buffy turned back to the First Slayer.

"You know you scare the hell out of me, right?" she asked. "I mean, I know that whatever you’re going to show me is for my own good, but…" Buffy voice trailed off as the Slayer merely stared at her as if she had no time for Buffy’s whining.

"Right," Buffy muttered, "Time grows short. Lay on MacDuff."

The First Slayer moved passed Buffy in the same direction she’d come, her rags trailing behind her. Reluctantly, Buffy followed in her shadow. They’d only gone a few steps when Buffy found herself in the middle of an unfamiliar city. Buffy followed the spirit into a building where people bustled to and fro. The Slayer stopped next to a group of people.

"She’s finally dead, you know?" an English accented woman asked another. The second woman who had an extremely bad haircut looked shocked.

"No, I didn’t realize. When did it happen?" she asked.

"Sometime last night," the first woman told her, shuffling some papers.

"Really? I didn’t think she’d ever die," the second woman said nastily. "She was just too mean and bitter." The two women laughed heartily at this.

Confused, Buffy looked at the First Slayer for an explanation of what was going on. Instead, the spirit pointed to another group of people.

"She finally bit it," said a young man in a business suit to an older gentleman. The two laughed as if at some joke.

"Do we know who won the betting pool?" the older gentleman asked curiously. This horrified Buffy.

"How dare they bet on some poor girl’s death?" Buffy said in outrage. She didn’t understand why she was being shown any of this. She didn’t know anyone on the verge of death. Nor did she think the deaths of any of her friends would be of any interest to anyone but the Gang. The First Slayer turned and began to move on, leaving the gossiping people behind. Buffy followed with one last look over her shoulder.

She soon found herself in a dark bar, mostly abandoned, with the exception of the bartender. Buffy looked around the filthy place and was about to ask the First Slayer why they were there, when two rather unsavory characters, one man, one woman, pushed through the door.

Buffy’s spider sense tingled as they drew closer, and she knew without question that both were vampires.

"Well, well, well," said the bartender, a greasy looking man who was losing his hair. "What brings the two of you here?" he asked. The couple checked the bar for anyone who might be eavesdropping.

"We got some stuff we thought you might be interesting in buying," said the male vampire, placing a small handkerchief tied in a bundle on the bar. The bartender untied the handkerchief and spread out its contents. A collection of jewelry gleamed dully in the poor light.

"Are these hers?" he asked, holding a gold ring up to the light. There was no need for him to explain who "her" was, because the vampire nodded.

"Yup. Took the stuff off her myself," he said proudly. "I figured that she didn’t need them anymore." The bartender pawed through the jewelry before announcing that he’d give the vampire 50 dollars for the lot. The vampire started to argue, but the bartender held up his hands.

"Fifty dollars or nothing," said the bartender. "Take it or leave it." After a few minutes of bluster, the vampire acquiesced.

"Now mine," the female vampire screeched. She hauled a backpack onto the counter and unzipped it. Out spilled a myriad of personal possessions. In a mixture of awe and disbelief, the bartender picked up a shoe.

"You took her clothing?" he asked. The vampire nodded.

"Well, she certainly didn’t need them to keep warm," she said. "And besides, if she’d wanted to keep them, she should’ve had someone out with her." The vampire cackled with laughter.

The bartender and other vampire joined in the laughter. Buffy turned away in disgust and looked at the First Slayer.

"Who is this poor woman they’re talking about?" she asked, more than a little disturbed. Buffy realized that this poor woman’s fate could be her own. The Slayer said nothing. Instead, she moved away, beckoning Buffy to follow.

As she turned to follow, Buffy was horrified to find herself standing in a morgue, surrounded by still forms on tables. The Slayer pointed at a body covered carelessly by a sheet, lying on a table in front of them. If she had dared, Buffy could’ve easily pulled the sheet down. But try as she might, she simply couldn’t.

"This place is creepy, spirit," Buffy said, looking around at the cold metal drawers. "Is there no one who’s saddened by this girl’s death?" she asked. Buffy crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to warm herself. While she couldn’t feel the actual coldness of the room, there was a chill penetrating her bones. Buffy felt like it was freezing her very soul.

The First Slayer guided Buffy away from the barren room, and they were soon standing in the middle of a cemetery. The wind whistled coldly, sending dead leaves skittering across concrete.

Although she couldn’t feel the bitter wind, Buffy pulled her robe around her tightly. The First Slayer grunted and gestured at a form moving towards them. It was a tall man, shoulders hunched against the cold, carrying flowers. As he drew closer, Buffy recognized the stooped form.

"Giles?" she said, rushing forward. "What’s Giles doing here?" she asked the Slayer. The Slayer remained expressionless, merely pointing at Giles again. Buffy watched as Giles knelt in front of a small headstone, studying him. He looked older and there was more gray in his hair than she remembered.

"Why does he always look so sad and tired?" she asked more of herself then the First Slayer. The grave marker in front of him was untended and he brushed away the leaves that had collected on it. Tears rolled down Giles’ face as he laid the flowers at its base. Kissing his fingers, Giles rested them on the headstone. Then, without a word, he stood and walked away.

The First Slayer pointed ominously toward the grave Giles had just left. Buffy whirled towards her.

"Before I go look at that grave, tell me this," Buffy said, a note of desperation in her voice. "is what you’ve shown me what Will be or simply what Could be?" The First Slayer growled and pointed emphatically at the headstone.

Dragging her feet, Buffy reluctantly moved toward the neglected grave. She stared at the name on the stone. It was her own: Buffy Anne Summers

"That was me on the table?" Buffy asked, whirling toward the spirit. The Slayer said nothing. "No," Buffy cried. "I’m different now," she swore. "I’m not the same person I was earlier today."

Emotion filled the First Slayers face, and Buffy fell to her knees in front of her.

"Tell me that I can change what I’ve seen," Buffy implored, tugging on the spirits rags. "I will hold Christmas close to my heart," she swore. Buffy grabbed the First Slayers hand. The Slayer tried to pull away. "I will celebrate its spirit every day."

Buffy held fast to the First Slayers hand, refusing to release it, despite the Slayer’s struggles.

"I will keep the lessons I’ve learned alive," Buffy promised, "Please, tell me that I can change what I’ve seen."

The First Slayer became still and suddenly began collapsing in on herself, until Buffy was holding nothing but a rag in her hands.


	5. The End of It

Buffy awoke clutching the bed sheet tightly in her hands. Her sheet! On her bed! Buffy leapt out of the bed and looked around the room.

"I’m back!" she declared with joy. She jumped out of bed and danced around the room, singing "I’m back!" over and over again. Finally, she came to a halt in the middle of the room. "And I will keep the spirit of Christmas with me always! Thanks everyone," she called out.

Buffy was in the shower, singing Christmas carols at the top of her lungs when a sudden realization hit her.

[I have no idea what day it is.] Buffy laughed out loud at the thought. [I have no idea how long I was with the spirits.] Cheerfully, Buffy finished her shower, dancing as she dried herself off and wrapped a towel around her wet hair. As she danced back to her room, Buffy collided with a very sleepy and somewhat grumpy Dawn.

"Sorry," Buffy’s voice sang as she grabbed Dawn’s arms to keep her from toppling. "What day is today?" she asked her sister. Dawn looked at her with sleep heavy eyes.

"What day is it?" she asked in disbelief. "It’s Christmas. What other day would it be?" Buffy clapped her hands together in glee.

"Of course it’s Christmas. Merry Christmas!" Buffy declared, pulling Dawn into a bear hug and jumping up and down. "They did it all in one night," she told Dawn. Dawn quickly pushed Buffy away.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?" she demanded. Buffy patted her check, smiling, before dancing to her room, singing ‘Feliz Navidad’ as she went. Dawn watched her go, shaking her head in disbelief. "She’s lost it," Dawn muttered. "She’s gone completely insane."

Buffy quickly dressed in her Doublemeat Palace uniform, as she had very little time before work. Before she left, she stopped in the kitchen and dialed Giles’ number in England. She was very disappointed when there was no answer. [He must already have gone to his friends.] she thought, hearing the outgoing message. She left a cheerful message wishing him a merry Christmas and that she would try to reach him later.

As she walked to work, Buffy called out greetings to everyone she met. Such was her mood, she gave a hearty shove on the merry-go-round for some enterprising kids on playground. Before giving them their push, she’d asked why they weren’t home opening presents and laughed when they told her their parents had forbidden the kids to get them up for another two hours.

Buffy was still laughing when she got to work, where she had one of the most pleasant shifts she’d ever worked. Everyone was in the holiday mood, and it wasn’t very busy. Just the occasional harried father sent in to buy a fast Christmas breakfast.

Business was so slow that Buffy managed to convince her manager to let her leave early. Buffy rushed home to shower again and change, knowing that the gang would be eating soon. She tried to call Giles again before leaving for Xander’s, but there still wasn’t any answer.

Juggling the brightly wrapped presents in her hands, Buffy raised her hand to knock on the door of Xander’s apartment. Inside, she could hear laughter and raised voices. She knocked loudly to be heard over the din.

"Merry Christmas," she greeted as Anya opened the door. Anya looked shocked.

"Buffy, what are you doing here?" she asked bluntly. "You made it very clear that you weren’t coming. You even said ‘Bah humbug’ when Dawn asked you." Buffy smiled.

"I didn’t sleep well last night, and just kind of came to my senses," Buffy told her, trying to enter the apartment. Anya blocked her way.

"Are you sure you’re all right?" she asked suspiciously. Anya peered at Buffy closely. "Dawn said you were acting weird this morning. Are you on drugs? You’re on drugs aren’t you?" Laughing, Buffy nudged Anya out of the way so she could enter the apartment.

"I swear, Anya, I’m not taking drugs," Buffy assured her. "Merry Christmas!" Buffy told the gang as she burst into the living room. Everyone looked at her in surprise.

"See, I told you she was acting weird," Dawn said to Willow. Buffy rolled her eyes good naturedly and started handing out her gifts. At the time she’d purchased them, she had complained about their cost and the fact she’d felt obligated to buy them. After last night’s visitors, Buffy was so glad she had them to give.

"I hope you don’t mind" Buffy said, handing Xander a medium sized box. "I convinced my manager to let me off early." Xander shook his head.

"Of course not, Buffy. You know you’re always welcome," he insisted. A movement behind Buffy caught Xander’s eye. Buffy noticed how his vision shifted and turned to see what he was looking at.

Buffy froze at the sight of a man standing in the doorway to Xander’s bedroom. His head was down and he stared at the eggnog in his hand, as if unsure of how, or even if, he’d be welcomed by her.

"Giles" Buffy whispered. She felt tears gather in her eyes, and she swiped at a stray few that spilled over. Giles looked up from his drink, his eyes wary.

"Giles flew in as a surprise," Dawn said, suddenly at Buffy’s elbow. She was nervous about Buffy’s possible reaction to the appearance of her Watcher. Buffy smiled a slightly watery smile.

"Christmas is a time for family," she said, moving across the room towards Giles still figure. Giles had braced himself for a possible onslaught and was caught off guard when she threw herself into his arms. "I’m so glad you came," Buffy whispered.

The entire gang silently released the breaths they’d been holding. Willow reached out and gripped Tara’s hand as they watched Buffy and Giles embrace.

Dinner was a rowdy affair, with lots of jokes and laughter. Xander goaded Giles into telling some stories of his youth that had the gang rolling with laughter. Dawn talked them into playing Pictionary. Which, if possible, had the gang laughing even harder than before as only Giles had any artistic talent.

Buffy kept close to Giles the entire time. When he laughed, he lost some of the worry lines that she’d noticed in her visits with the Christmas spirits. The day itself had taken on an almost magical quality for Buffy, full of happiness and laughter. It was with great regret that she announced it was time for her to patrol. Everyone was disappointed, but understood.

Grabbing her jacket, Buffy turned to Giles.

"Come patrol with me?" she asked him quietly. Startled by her request, Giles stared at her for a moment before grinning.

"I’d be delighted to," he told her. Giles retrieved his jacket, and they ambled out of the apartment into the cold December evening together. At first they walked in silence, neither sure of what to say to the other. Finally, Buffy realized that she would have to make the first move.

"I’ve missed you," she said softly. Giles started at the sound of her voice. He’d been lost in thought, trying to figure out how to start a conversation.

"And I, you," he replied. Buffy paused at a cement bench in the cemetery and sat down. She patted the space next to her.

"Wanna hear a story?" she asked him. Puzzled, Giles sat next to her. He listened quietly as she told him about her night, about the visit from Kendra and the three ghosts. He took her hand in support when her voice caught as she told him about her mother’s appearance.

"I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that the Dickens tale is based on an actual incident," Giles said once Buffy had finished her story. Buffy nodded, silently. She scooted closer to Giles and laid her head on his shoulder.

"I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain," she said suddenly. Giles let go of her hand so that he could put his arm around her shoulders. Buffy snuggled closer. She felt Giles’ body stiffen against her, then relax again.

"You have never been a pain," Giles assured her. "A test of my patience, maybe, but never a pain." Buffy could hear the smile in his voice, and nudged him in the side with her elbow.

"I’m serious," she said.

"So am I," Giles retorted. Leaning back, Buffy looked up into his smiling face.

"You look happy, Giles," she said softly, reaching up to brush as stray lock of hair from his face.

"I am happy," he said. "You’re alive and living life. What more could I ask for?"

"It’s always about me, isn’t it?" Buffy asked him.

"I’m sorry?" he asked, confused.

"Your happiness truly hinges on mine, doesn’t it?"

"Buffy, I’m not sure I know what you mean," Giles said, genuinely confused by her words. Buffy smiled and lay her palm on his cheek.

"No, you don’t," she whispered. "You see, through everything I was shown last night, there was one constant. You. And when I saw you in Xander’s apartment, all the pieces finally fell into place." Buffy leaned up and placed her lips on his.

Shocked, Giles didn’t react at first. Then, once he’d gotten over his surprise, he kissed her back, tangling his fingers in her hair. They pulled apart after a few minutes, each searching the other’s eyes.

"God bless us, everyone." Buffy murmured as Giles brought his lips back to hers.


End file.
